


Pretty Little Lie

by mylittlejaybird



Category: DCU, Original Work
Genre: Asphyxiation, Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Yeah you read that right, non-consensual consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 04:39:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9641090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylittlejaybird/pseuds/mylittlejaybird
Summary: Ian dreams a pleasant dream.Right up until the point he wakes up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My PTSD got the better of me again. I was having a really hard time processing it. So I borrowed my boyfriend's OC (Ian) and had him experience something similar to my situation with my OC (Leo). It helped, and I slept dreamlessly the next night.

“That’s good sugar. Nnh, thas real good.” 

Ian fluttered his lashes up at Leo, mouth too preoccupied to respond. The Welshman carded a hand along Ian’s head, cupping the back of it and pulling him closer. Ian closed his eyes and relaxed his throat, taking the other man deeper with the ease of practice.

Leo tipped his head back and rocked his hips into Ian’s mouth - one, two, three times before he pinned him there with a loud groan, spilling into Ian’s throat as he continued to gently suck him.

The other man slumped bonelessly against the headboard, patting the side of Ian’s cheek. “Jus’... gimme a sec boyo and I’ll return the favor, yeah?”

Ian smiled and let Leo’s cock slip from his mouth, crawling up his body to press his chest against the Welshman’s. He flicked his tongue over Leo’s lips and ground his hard cock against his stomach. 

“Maybe I should just take what I want.” He dropped his head down to press a light kiss against Leo’s lips, enjoying the tickle of his facial hair. His hips rolled more pointedly and he moaned softly, pressing into the kiss harder.

Leo put a hand on his shoulder and flipped Ian onto his back, sitting up beside him and wrapping one hand around his cock and the other around his throat.

“Methinks you’re forgettin’ yer place.” He squeezed both hands, and Ian’s eyes rolled back with pleasure. “Guess I best be remindin’ ya, hey sugar.”

Ian whimpered softly and arched his back. He was rewarded with the hand on his throat tightening while the one of his cock stroked him slowly. He whined louder while he still could, planting his feet and thrusting up into the circle of Leo’s palm.

Leo increased the pressure on Ian’s neck and let go of his cock completely. He writhed and managed a single noise of complaint before those strong fingers clamped down and cut off his air entirely.

His cock twitched and drooled onto his belly, balls aching with the need for release. He looked up at Leo pleadingly, hands curled in the blankets so as not to touch himself; the consequences wouldn’t be worth the temporary relief.

Leo watched him until he stilled and his eyes rolled, lack of oxygen to his brain starting to fuzz the edges of his vision. His cock throbbed  _ harder _ and the Welshman laughed and finally,  _ finally _ wrapped his hand back around him.

Ian’s cry of pleasure was cut short by the fingers cutting off his air. Leo jacked him hard and fast and he felt his orgasm build quickly.

Then Leo let go of his throat, and he managed a single deep inhale before he was arching his back and crying out at the sheer  _ intensity _ of his orgasm. His entire body shook with it, until he collapsed, gasping still but unable to move otherwise.

Leo chuckled fondly and licked off his own hand, before leaning down to clean off the rest, the tickle or his facial hair making Ian squirm and half-heartedly bat his head. The Welshman nipped at his fingers before laying beside Ian, tracing random patterns over Ian’s skin, enjoying the small shudders of pleasure the action wrought.

“Mmmh, that ne’er gets old. I’d stay in bed with y’all day if’n I could.” Leo pressed a slightly scratchy kiss to his cheek.

Ian managed to get his breath back and beamed up at Leo, affection burning brightly within him. “Too little too late, old man.”

Leo laughed and flicked one of Ian’s nipples playfully, enjoying his startled yelp and the half-hearted smack he received for his efforts. “Oh I dunno. Somethin’ to be said ‘bout experience, i’n’t there sugar?”

Ian sighed fondly and rolled onto his side, cuddling up to the other man, closing his eyes. “Mmhmmmm.”

When he opened them again, it was dark, and his skin felt like it was positively  _ crawling _ . There was still a warm body beside him, but it was impossible to tell whose in the dark. He couldn’t remember falling asleep with anyone.

And then he remembered Leo’s smiling face and easy laugh and how  _ pleasant  _ it had all been. 

He lurched for the bedside trash, only barely managing to reach it in time, startling his bed partner seeing as how he’d had to lay across them to get it. He retched miserably as a warm hand began to rub his back comfortingly. A small hand.

Ian scrambled off of Damian and fell to the floor, hands only barely managing to grab the can and drag it closer before he was retching again. The soft light of the bedside lamp turned on and he groaned in protest, clamping his sensitive eyes shut.

“Savage? What is wrong?”

The kid must’ve snuck in again, probably due to his own nightmares. Ian just shook his head and rested it on the edge of the garbage can.

An image of Leo’s smiling face flashed through his mind, and that weird  _ warmth _ that the dream had associated him with. It was very quickly overshadowed by the disgust and shame that always accompanied thoughts of his once abuser. He gagged but had nothing left to throw up. 

Then that small hand was on his shoulder again, squeezing it gently. Tears sprung to his eyes and he leaned towards the touch as sobs tore from his tender throat. Damian was down on the floor with him and holding him as close as a fourteen-year old was capable of holding someone twice his age. 

“You are safe Savage. Whatever nightmare plagued you, it is over. I am here.”

Ian shook his head and buried his face into Damian’s chest, fingers clawing at his bare chest. He barely managed to speak between sobs. “No no no, was different, was  _ worse. _ ”

“It was still only a dream.”

Ian growled, stifling his sobs and digging his nails into Damian’s flesh unconsciously. The teenager didn’t draw attention to it. “It was  _ him.  _ The one who... who tried to  _ own _ me.”

Damian knew exactly who Ian meant. Their shared experience under the torturous care of Dr. Crane had enlightened him on many of the horrors Ian had faced during his time in Blackgate. Particularly Leo, who had claimed Ian as his own, and whored him out in return for favors. He’d gotten to relive Ian’s memories in technicolor thanks to Scarecrow.

“He is dead. He can’t hurt you.” Damian said fiercely, tightening his hold on Ian.

Ian’s anger teetered, and his voice was a sob when he spoke again: “He wasn’t.”

Damian furrowed his brow but knew better than to press for details. He would not be the one to force Ian to relive his trauma for the umpteenth time. “Forget about him. He is inconsequential. Allow me to get you cleaned up, and then we can watch It’s Cute until your fools return from patrol.”

Ian pushed Damian back and held him at arm’s length, eyes slightly wild. “I  _ liked _ it. Liked  _ him _ .”

The teenager searched his face, wondering if his initial assumption upon hearing those words was correct or not. He settled for a neutral response, rubbing his hands up and down Ian’s arms in what was meant to be a comforting manner. “It was only a dream Savage. It wasn’t real.”

Ian stared at him for several long moments before he slumped and nodded slowly, dropping his gaze. “Not real...”

Damian squeezed his shoulders. “Go clean yourself up. I will deal with this mess.” He gestured to the trash bin.

Ian nodded numbly but made no move to stand, or move other than to drop his hands into his lap. He stared at the floor. Damian sighed and leaned forward to give him another hug. “Do you wish to speak of it?” He felt Ian tense, could hear the protest, so he hastily cut him off. “To Carter, not me.”

As much as he cared for Ian’s well being, he was not qualified to deal with this level of headfuckery. Carter was at least a certified psychologist, though legally retired. Plus Damian was... unsure if he wished to know what Ian had dreamt. 

After a few moments, Ian nodded. His voice was very small and tired when he next spoke. “‘kay.”

“Get on the bed. I’ll-” He stopped when Ian snapped his head up and shook it, eyes wide once more. “...The couch, then. Call your feline companion and have it keep you company. I will clean up and call Carter.”

Ian took a deep breath and nodded. 

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, dreams are dreams. You're not disgusting or gross or a horrible human being for dreaming things you would never do in the waking world.


End file.
